Chasing Sara
by ShannonSto
Summary: GS. Grissom realizes what he needs, and the chase is on. Complete.
1. Let the Games Begin

**Spoilers**: All of season four is referenced elliptically, but there's nothing specific.  If you're not up to date on the current season, don't read any further.

**A/N**: This came from the spoiler last summer that indicated that Grissom would chase Sara.  Since it hasn't happened so far, and brain couldn't let it go, here's what I came up with.  Thank you, Maddy, for the use of your title.

*^*^*^*^*^*

Gil Grissom switched off the last lamp, the only remaining illumination in his townhouse coming from the flickering screen of the television.  He stretched out on the couch, deep in thought.  The volume he kept low; he found this particular documentary interesting, but he had seen it last week.  This was his lifestyle, and it had contented him for many years.  Why did it feel so hollow now?

He squinted his eyes, hoping that it would help him see more clearly the photograph he held in the dim light.  It wasn't as if he didn't have it memorized; she stood between Greg and Archie, her smile brighter than the sun.  It had been taken at an employee picnic two years ago.  Grissom had picked this snapshot out of the packet of photos and tucked it away in a drawer in his home.  He wondered how she would react if she knew he kept photographs of her.

He was hit with an epiphany as he sat alone in the near darkness:  He didn't want to be alone anymore.  How could he settle for this empty existence when the woman he loved wanted, for reasons he couldn't begin to fathom, to be with him?  His insecurity had kept her from him for far too long already.

Fear remained in his heart that what she felt for him was merely an infatuation, and that when the infatuation faded and she began to see him for who he really was, she would reject him.  He wasn't sure if he could survive the pain of such a scenario, but tonight he realized that he was made desperately unhappy by the widening gulf between them.  And by all appearances, so was she.  Sometimes she appeared a mere shell of her former self. That realization pained him.  He needed her in his life—he needed her in his arms.  And, since he knew he could not handle the possibility of losing her, he would do everything in his power to make her happy.

With a sigh, he reminded himself that he was putting the cart before the horse_.  By the time you figure it out, you really could be too late_.  Was he too late?  Since the moment she had burned those words into his brain, she had noticeably distanced herself from him.  He admitted to himself that his behavior toward her had done nothing to endear him to her.  He had treated her unfairly. Was she still interested?  He stared at the telephone, fighting the temptation to call her at work. There was simply no way he could approach this over the telephone.  They were far too awkward around one another for that.  He focused on the documentary, and sleep slowly overtook him.

*^*^*^*^*^*

By the next evening, Grissom had formulated a plan.  He knew that neither of them was ready for him to boldly and abruptly change the charted course of denial and enforced distance.  The subtle approach would be better, he decided.  Gradual reconnection was the key to rebuilding their friendship and moving on to the next level together.  He intended to set his plan into motion immediately by assigning Sara to work with him.

As he sat behind his desk, he pored over the night's cases.  A breaking and entering?  Warrick.  A hit and run accident on Las Vegas Boulevard?  It screamed Catherine and Nick.  A jumper with a bullet hole?  Perfect.  Satisfied, he picked up the stack of papers and headed for the break room.

"All I'm saying is that it's possible." Nick's voice rang out as Grissom entered the room.  Grissom's eyes scanned the room and quickly found Sara, who was reading a magazine.

"Come on, man," Warrick responded skeptically. "You can't possibly believe that anyone ever woke up in a bathtub full of ice with his kidneys missing.  It's an urban legend."

"I didn't say it happened. Just that it's possible."

"It's not possible, Nick." Grissom laid the papers on the table.  "If you believe that, do you also believe in spontaneous combustion?"

Sara felt herself begin to blush, but covered immediately.  Warrick glanced at her with a slight smile, remembering back to their case involving the mysterious combustion of a woman.  Sara had been a different person then:  vibrant, enthusiastic, and eager to test a theory.

Grissom gave Nick, Catherine and Warrick their assignments and they filed out of the room.  Sara looked up at him expectantly.  Where was her case?  Was she on his shit list again?  What had she done this time?  After a few moments, she asked, "Grissom?"

"Huh? Oh, you're with me," he answered cheerfully.  "Ready?"

"Sure."

They arrived at the high-rise apartment building to find Jim Brass waiting for them.  As they approached, he pointed over his shoulders at the crumpled body on the concrete.  "This one should be fun," he said dryly. "Guy jumps from the roof.  First cop on the scene goes to check him out, and surprise!  He's got a bullet through his chest."

"So did he jump, or was he tossed?"  Sara wondered aloud.

Grissom turned to her with a twinkle in his eyes.  "We have a puzzle to solve."  As soon as he'd read the slip, he'd known this was the right case for the two of them.  It would require thinking outside of the box, and provide them with ample opportunity for conversation and interaction.  "ID'd him yet, Jim?"

Brass nodded.  "Greg Ross, age 38.  No family in the area.  The building manager said he just moved in three months ago.  The neighbors don't know anything about him.  He was a quiet man," he deadpanned.

Sara knelt next to the corpse.  "Through and through," she observed without touching it. "This is the exit wound.  Unless he was shot on the roof, we're going to have a tough time finding that bullet."

Grissom returned from the truck and handed Sara's field kit to her.  "I guess we'd better get started then."

"I'll keep checking for witnesses," Brass said.

During the elevator ride to the roof access stairwell, Grissom studied Sara carefully.  She stood stiffly, staring ahead and saying nothing.  He could almost see the tension in her neck and shoulders.  Damn!  Things were worse between them than he'd thought.  He fought successfully against the urge to reach out and massage the taut muscles.  When he moved to stand closer to her, she gave no indication that she noticed.

They scoured the rooftop, looking for evidence but finding none.  Sara and Grissom stood at the edge from which Greg Ross had departed.  Sara shook her head. "No blood.  No bullet.  Nothing."

Looking down at the victim on the sidewalk, Grissom answered his ringing telephone.  He finished the call and turned to his colleague.  "Jim found a resident who claims to have heard what may have been a gun shot."

"May have been?"

"Yeah.  She wasn't sure what it was, and she couldn't tell where it was coming from, so she didn't report it."  He watched Sara's face as she mentally processed the information.  "And it looks like David's about finished.  He's loading the vic into the car."

*^*^*^*^*^*

Grabbing her purse, Sara closed her locker.  Grissom watched her from the doorway.  This was an opportunity and he had to seize it.  He cleared his throat.  "You going home?"

Sara jumped a little at the sound of his voice.  "Uh, yeah.  Did I forget something?"

"No, no.  Do you…want to get some breakfast?"  His pulse was racing.

She stared at him, unprepared.  Did he mean breakfast with everyone? Or did he mean just the two of them?  Was he asking her as a coworker, or as something more?  She wasn't going to guess. "No thanks.  I'm really tired.  I'm going to go home and crash."

She inadvertently brushed against him as she left.  The contact caused his skin to tingle.  That hadn't gone well.  The sting of rejection sent an urge to retreat coursing through his brain.  No, he told himself, he wasn't going to give up.  It made sense to him that she was leery.  He expected her to be hesitant, hence the plan of gradual reconnection.  Tonight, he would simply try again.

TBC  
  



	2. What Do We Have?

"So what exactly do we have?"  Grissom leaned back in his chair.  He and Sara sat on opposite sides of his desk, discussing the specifics of the case.  It had been a long shift, and with a few hours to go, they still had more questions than answers.

"Greg Ross, shot once in the chest. Absence of GSR indicates that the bullet was not fired from close range," Sara rattled off the facts.  "There's no blood in his apartment or on the roof.  We don't know whether he jumped, he fell, or he was pushed, but we do know that he was alive when he hit the ground.  Or very shortly before."

Grissom listened intently, occasionally touching his pen to his lip in contemplation. When Sara paused, he picked up where she had stopped.  "We have a neighbor, one Luz Rivera, who heard a shot around that time, but she's not sure which direction the sound came from.  Greg Ross lived alone.  He had no friends or family nearby.  No wife, no girlfriend, no children.  He was just laid off from his job.  Suicide is a possibility."

"And yet," Sara continued, "he didn't shoot himself.  And he wasn't shot on the roof.  What are we missing?"

"Good question."

Sara's face suddenly lit up as a new idea occurred to her.  "Wait a minute.  We know he wasn't shot on the roof because there's no blood.  But if he was shot elsewhere and brought to the roof, wouldn't there still be some blood?  He had to have been shot between the roof and the sidewalk."  Watching Grissom's expression, she quickly corrected herself.  "I know, that's crazy."  She silently chastised herself for over-talking again.

"Actually," Grissom said thoughtfully, "that's the only thing that makes any sense.  We need to go back to that building in the daylight."

"Somebody knows something," Sara agreed.

"Somebody thinks they got away with something.  But they didn't anticipate you working the case."  He smiled appreciatively.  "How do you feel about breakfast in the morning before we head back to the scene?"

Again, Sara stared at him, attempting to discern his motive.  His smile and praise made her want even more to believe that his suggestion was personal rather than professional.  However, she still couldn't be certain.  She strengthened her resolve to make him express his intentions clearly; she could not and would not accept ambiguity any longer.  "Grissom…" she sighed. "I don't know.  I'll just get something from the vending machine."

Grissom nodded, unsure whether or not he should push the issue.  After a moment's thought, he tried a new approach.  "Are you sure?  You don't seem like a vending machine kind of person.  All those preservatives."  He smiled again and hoped that she would understand the meaning of his invitation.  "Come on, I'm buying."

Sara was wracked with indecision.  Her inner voice was screaming at her, warning her not to get sucked in again.  At the same time, there was a part of her that wanted to fling herself onto his lap and kiss him passionately.

"I can't," she said finally.  Though she tried, she was unable to disguise the sadness in her voice.  "Call me when you're ready to go back to the building.  I'll be in Trace."

Grissom watched her leave.  She paused at the doorway, turned as if to speak, but then thought better of it and departed.

*^*^*^*^*^*

The two CSIs spent an hour combing through Greg Ross' apartment, but found no new evidence.  Discouraged and frustrated, they picked up their field kits and stepped into the hallway.  Their attention was quickly captured by a young woman with deep bruising on her cheek.  She averted her eyes and attempted to continue past them on her way to her own apartment.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Grissom said politely. "I'm Gil Grissom, this is Sara Sidle. We're from the Las Vegas Crime Lab.  Do you mind if we ask you a couple of questions?"

The woman appeared agitated. "Crime lab?  I didn't do nothing.  I was just scaring him.  Ain't no crime."

Sara and Grissom stole a quick glance at one another.  "Scaring who?" Sara asked.

"Benny, my husband."

"We're not here about your husband.  Did you know Greg Ross?" Grissom inquired.

"Who?"

"Greg Ross. He ended up on the sidewalk the other day.  Dead."

"I heard he jumped, man."

Sara found the woman's manner suspicious.  "He was shot.  I'm sorry, we didn't catch your name."

"Miriam Oliver."

"Do you live in the building?"

"Yeah, 1420.  Can I go?"

Grissom nodded.  "Yes.  Thank you for your time."  Mrs. Oliver scurried down the hallway and disappeared around the corner.

"She's hiding something," Sara said.

"But is it about this case, or is Benny a second case in this building?" Grissom's brow furrowed in concentration.

*^*^*^*^*^*

 The drive home from the lab gave Grissom time to think.  He knew his mind should be on the case, but he couldn't help thinking about Sara and the lack of progress he seemed to have made so far.  Was it possible that he wasn't clear enough about what he wanted?  He considered that maybe he should be more direct.  

When he arrived at his townhouse, he fumbled through his address book.  He opened the book to the correct page and then found the other information he needed in the telephone book.  Satisfied, he dialed the phone.

Hours later Sara awoke to the blaring of her alarm.  She drowsily rolled over and shut it off.  As she dressed for work, she pondered the events of the last few days.  Grissom had asked her to breakfast.  Twice.  What did it mean? Or did it mean anything?  

A knock at her front door startled her.  She had no family in town, and no one else ever stopped by; she couldn't imagine who it could be.  "Okay, okay, I'm coming," she mumbled despite knowing that the person on the other side of the door probably couldn't hear her anyway.

"Flowers for you, ma'am," the delivery boy said when Sara opened the door.  He handed the vase to her.  

"From who?" Sara asked in bewilderment.

The delivery boy shrugged.  Sara reached to get her purse for the tip, but he stopped her.  "It's taken care of."

"Oh, okay.  Thanks."  She shut the door and padded into the kitchen, setting the vase on the counter.  Someone had sent her a dozen long-stemmed red roses.  She read the card in utter amazement.  _'Thinking of you.  Gil.'  _Wow, she thought, that's a far cry from _'From Grissom.'_

Suddenly, she felt like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car.  She could now be reasonably certain that his breakfast invitations had been personal.  But where did he want this to go?  Would he keep trying?  She didn't know if she was willing to put her heart on the line for him again.  She had no idea what she should do.

TBC


	3. Slow and Steady?

Grissom sat studying the photographs of Greg Ross' wound track when he sensed Sara's presence in front of his desk.  Her smug grin and arched eyebrow indicated she had new information to share.

"You have something," he stated as the corners of his mouth turned upward.

"Benny Oliver?  He owns a handgun," she confirmed

"Ah, the fighting Olivers in 1420."

"It may be nothing.  Or it may be everything."

"Let's pay the Olivers a visit, shall we?"

*^*^*^*^*^*

The drive to the apartment was uncomfortably silent.  Grissom kept his eyes on the road, unsure whether he should ask her if she received the roses.  She was awfully quiet.  Was she angry?  Had he screwed up again?  Why were these things so difficult for him?

Sara stared absently out the passenger window into the darkness.  She knew she should say something about the flowers, but what?  She would have given anything to know exactly what was going on in that head of his.  

"Um, Grissom," she began haltingly, "thank you for the roses.  They're beautiful."

"You're welcome.  I…I really am trying, Sara."

"I know," she responded simply.  Nothing more was said until they reached their destination.  Brass was waiting for them with the warrant in his hand.

The man who answered the door looked as though he hadn't bathed for a week.  _Shower must be on the fritz_, Sara thought sarcastically.  _Washing machine, too_.  

Brass flashed his badge.  "Detective Brass, LVPD.  We have a warrant to search this apartment.  Are you Benjamin Oliver?"

Benny nodded and allowed them to enter.  "What are you looking for?  We didn't do nothing."

"Then we'll be out of your way quickly," Grissom countered.  "Do you always leave your windows open?"

"It's hot.  We can't afford to run the cooler.  Is that against the law?"

"Grissom?" Sara called out after a few minutes.  As he came near, she pointed to a small hole in the bedroom door.

Grissom assessed the hole for a moment, and then turned to Benny Oliver.  "What's this?  It looks fresh."

"Nothing." Benny shrugged.  "My wife was cleaning the gun and it went off."

"Where was she standing?" Sara inquired.

He gestured toward an area just in front of the dresser.  "Over there, I think."

The CSIs entered the bedroom and shut the door.  Sara stood in front of the dresser and pointed her finger as if it were a gun.  Picking up on her train of thought, Grissom followed the line of the bullet through the door, across the living room and out the open window.

"What were the odds on that?" Brass asked in amazement.

*^*^*^*^*^*

Sara and Grissom sat in his office, brainstorming possible scenarios for their case.

"So Greg Ross decides to commit suicide and takes a header off the roof.  But as he's falling," Grissom summed up his theory, "Miriam Oliver fires a single shot.  The bedroom door is closed, so she never sees Ross, but her bullet hits him in the chest."

"I'd bet money she didn't fire by accident, either," Sara asserted.

"She was trying to scare Benny, probably the source of her bruises.  She meant to fire the weapon, but she didn't mean to kill our vic."

"But did the bullet have time to kill him before the sidewalk did?"

"It was a lethal wound.  But it is possible he hit the sidewalk first," Grissom sighed.  "Even if her shot did kill him, our case is completely circumstantial.  We need that bullet."

"He was shot as he was falling," Sara mused.  "How did his descent alter the trajectory of the bullet?"

"I'll leave that one to my physics major."  Grissom's wink was barely perceptible, but Sara noticed.

"Thanks," she responded cheekily, unable to resist grinning.

"Work on that.  I'll see if Brass can get the Olivers in here for an interview.  A confession wouldn't hurt."

They rose from their chairs, but their motion was ill-timed and uncoordinated, so much so that they collided, sending Grissom's paperwork to the floor.  "Sorry," they apologized in unison.

They dropped to their knees to gather the errant forms and files, unconsciously getting quite close to each other.  Grissom could feel the heat of Sara's breath on his neck as he futilely attempted to keep his mind on the task at hand.  _She's so close…if I turn my head just a little, I could—no! Stop it, Gil!  Slow and steady wins the race, remember?_

Sara could have sworn she felt his beard brush against her cheek ever so slightly.  _Oh, God, he's close.  What would it feel like to_—before she could complete her fantasy, his lips met hers.  The Earth stopped as they savored one another, and all knowledge of place or time slipped away.  The kiss was everything either of them had ever imagined it could be: sweet, passionate, full of promise.  They were jarred back to reality by the sound of voices in the corridor and abruptly pulled apart.  Nick and Warrick appeared in the doorway.

"Hey," Nick greeted.  "We're ordering pizza.  You guys in?"

Grissom shook his head and averted his eyes.  "Oh, no thanks," Sara answered awkwardly.

"Okay, sorry to interrupt," Warrick said, his face displaying his suspicion.  He and Nick disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

"I, uh, I'd better get started on that calculation," Sara stammered, and hastily retreated.

Grissom's hands shook as he picked up the papers.  _That was close.  Too close.  But so worth it._

*^*^*^*^*^*

"We're looking for a needle in a haystack," Greg groaned.

Sara donned her forensics cap to protect her eyes from the evening glare.  "Hey, you wanted to get out into the field.  You have to take the grunt work with the good stuff."  She pointed across the street.  "The computer mock-up indicates that the bullet ricocheted off of that building and ended up somewhere in this area."

She gridded the area and then she, Greg and three cadets began searching methodically for the crucial piece of evidence.  Before long, one of the cadets shouted.

"See, that didn't take long," Sara told Greg.  

"We got lucky," he said.

"I'll take luck.  Mark it and get a picture."  Once he had properly recorded the discovery, she grasped it with her forceps and dropped it into a baggie.

*^*^*^*^*^*

Back at the lab, Sara signed the evidence over to bobby and tracked down her supervisor.  As usual, her smile gave her away.

"You found it," Grissom pronounced.

"We found it," She confirmed proudly.

"Good work."  He turned back to his staffing report. Sara sat across the desk from him and crossed her arms on the desk.  When Grissom seemed not to notice, she took the initiative.

"He's a big one, isn't he?"

Grissom was confused.  "Pardon?"

"The elephant in the room.  He's a big one," she explained.

"Oh, him.  Yes, he is."  He laid down his pen and leaned back in his chair.  "I owe you an apology.  That shouldn't have happened in the lab.  I compromised us both."

Her smile began to grow as soon as she heard his words.  He didn't regret kissing her.  He only regretted kissing her _in the lab_.  "Don't sweat it.  No one saw us."

"We got lucky," he replied.

Sara found herself hit with a sense of déjà vu. "I'll take luck."  She noticed the familiar twinkle in his eyes.

He moved to mirror his position, leaning on his elbows with his arms folded across the desk.  "Have dinner with me."

"What happened to breakfast?"

"Would you rather have breakfast?"

Sara rolled her eyes and grinned flirtatiously.  What was she getting herself into?  "Dinner's fine."

TBC


	4. Something Wicked This Way Comes

Sara was surprised by the jittery feeling that she just couldn't shake.  So far, Grissom was doing everything right.  He had behaved like the consummate gentleman.  She sat across from him at a small table in one of the finest restaurants in town.  While she was quite comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, she was grateful for the occasional opportunity to dress more formally.  Everything seemed to be going well.  She took a deep breath, ordering herself to relax.

For his part, Grissom was equally, if not more, nervous.  He'd confirmed the reservation twice, and agonized over details that normally didn't concern him, such as the color of his shirt.  He made a concerted effort to be gentlemanly, holding open doors and offering her his arm.  Everything seemed to be falling into place. At one point on the drive to Sara's apartment, he had talked himself out of his anxiety; after all, this was Sara.  He saw her nearly every day.  But then she had answered her door.  He couldn't remember if he'd ever seen anything more beautiful.  The nearly paralytic fear came crashing back down on him.  Now, as he sat across from her, he attempted to settle his jangled nerves.  

Grissom perused his menu.  "Do you know what you want?"

"I'll have the prime rib, medium rare," Sara said seriously.

"They have a nice cut he—er, what?"  Confusion was evident on his face.

Sara smiled coquettishly.  "Just checking to see if you were paying attention.  The vegetable lasagna looks good."

"Have you decided?" The waiter asked as he returned with their drinks.

"We'll both have the vegetable lasagna." Grissom closed his menu and handed it to the server.

"Very well, Sir."  He disappeared into the kitchen.

Sara turned to her companion.  "You can have meat, you know.  I'm quite used to it."

"It' all right." Grissom felt an urge to start a conversation by discussing the case.  He struggled to contain it.  This was their personal time, and they wouldn't waste it with "shop talk."  His thoughts were interrupted by the staff, who were gathering around an adjacent table and carrying a cake with the words "Happy 50th Anniversary."  Sara sang softly along with the chorus of "Happy Anniversary to You", her eyes misting slightly.  

"Fifty years?"  Grissom wondered.

Sara's smile had a sad yet hopeful quality.  "It's nice to know it's possible," she said softly.  

"Probably not possible for me," Grissom replied somberly.  "Even disregarding the age issue."

"Don't underestimate yourself."

"Historically, relationships just don't work for me.  They require more social skills than I seem to possess."

Sara took his hand in hers.  "Me either.  But we're doing pretty well right now."

"The night is young," he said with a wry grin.

The ice was broken, and they managed to converse comfortably throughout the meal.  It felt like the old days, when they spoke freely and happily around each other.  When they enjoyed one another's company.  Sara felt happier and more relaxed than she'd felt in a very long time, hopeful that they could get back the friendship they once shared.  She was hit with a wave of sadness when she realized that things could never again be the way they were.  They could never be just friends.  That ship had sailed.  Their relationship had reached a pivotal "all or nothing" point, and she hoped against hope that the final result would be "all."  However, with Grissom, one never knew.  He could succumb to his fears again and put the emergency brake into use.  She was taking a hell of a risk letting him into her heart again, and it worried her.  Oh, who was she kidding?  He'd never really left her heart.

"Would you like to dance?" Grissom asked.  He stood and offered her his hand.

Sara hesitated.  "I'm not the best dancer…"

"Nor am I.  Come on."

She took his hand and followed him out onto the dance floor.  The melody lilted as he pulled her into his arms.  They danced with their bodies in very close proximity to one another, and as the music played on, the light between them gradually disappeared.  Grissom found that he enjoyed the feel of Sara's body against his every bit as much as he imagined he would.  Her arms were around his shoulders and her breath on his neck.  It was inevitable that their heads would turn and their lips would meet, but when that time came, it was nonetheless magic for them both.  

"May I cut in?" a familiar voice sneered.  They disentangled themselves and turned to face Conrad Ecklie.

"Can I help you, Conrad?"  Grissom seethed.

"Oh, you've helped me plenty.  This is very interesting.  I wonder what Cavallo would think."

"Oh, come on, Ecklie," Sara said angrily. "Cut us a break.  We're not doing anything wrong."

"Technically, no, I suppose not.  But still…"

"Excuse us," Grissom said roughly, lightly pushing his nemesis out of his way with his forearm.  He led Sara back to their table.

"Don't let him get to you," Sara advised gently.

Ecklie walked toward them.  "'Something wicked this way comes'," Grissom muttered.  Ecklie grinned widely at them as he passed by en route to his table.

Sara took her date's hand again.  "'There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so'."  She smiled.  "See, I know some Shakespeare, too."

He retrieved his credit card from his wallet and placed it in the folder, all the while watching Ecklie.  The day shift supervisor sat next to his wife and another couple.  Gil read his lips as he explained the encounter on the dance floor.  Grissom comprehended most of Ecklie's words, and when he saw the man accusing Sara of keeping her job by inappropriate means, he jumped from his chair to defend her.  Sara grabbed his arm, puzzled as to what had upset him again.  

"He's not doing anything.  He's just talking to his friends."

"It's what he's saying."

"How do you know what he's saying?"

"I can—it doesn't matter."

"Sit down.  Please."

Grissom obliged.  "Would you turn me in?"

"Why?"

"If I killed Ecklie," he explained, in a manner that left Sara unsure whether he was joking. "Would you turn me in?"

"That depends," she grinned playfully.  "Would I get to help dispose of the body?  Between the two of us, we could come up with something pretty good."

Grissom pretended to think it over for a moment, then reached out and shook her hand.  "Partners."

"So, how much do you want to bet word's out at the lab before we even get there tonight?"  She kept her tone light, but internally all of her panic lights were flashing.  Grissom would react the deer in the headlights of an oncoming car, she suspected.  He would be mortified when his love life between rumor mill fodder, and it would confirm some of the fears that had kept him from her.

Grissom sighed.  "No doubt."  He tried to reassure her with his smile.  Surely she was wondering if he would panic now.  He wouldn't.  Ecklie could tell everyone in Clark County, and it wouldn't change Grissom's mind.  He was going to find a way to make this relationship work.

TBC


	5. Where's the Brake!

**A/N**: One more chapter after this one, folks. Thank you to everyone who's still reading. ;-) Sorry to say, despite multiple attempts to fix it, ff.net seems to be delting my scene breaks. I've added the "parts" to try to make it more clear.

Part I

Sara paused outside the lab's employee entrance and tried to mentally prepare herself for what she might face. Grissom had finally allowed himself to take a chance. He had asked her out on a date and followed through. The evening was fairy tale perfect, that is until the evil troll, in the form of Ecklie, had reared his ugly head. Sara knew that if the relationship were to grow from it's fragile infancy, they would have to keep it quiet for a while. Grissom was an extremely private man, and he likely wouldn't deftly handle his personal life on the lab grapevine. His already serious concerns about interoffice dating had to be at the front of his mind. He had been very subdued on the drive back to her apartment. Would he put on the brakes now? Would he begin performing damage control?

Taking a deep breath, she entered the double doors and made her way to Grissom's office. He sat sorting through the day's messages, seemingly oblivious to her presence. She cleared her throat.

Grissom looked up at her. "Good evening."

"Good evening. Heard any good rumors lately?"

"Not yet. But I'm sure they're coming." He gave her a wry smile.

"I take it I'm still on the Ross case?"

"Certainly."

Sara nodded. "I'll catch up with Bobby, see if he has anything on that bullet."

"Good." Grissom glanced at the clock on the wall. "I'll give the others their assignments and find you."

Part II

Strolling down the corridor toward Ballistics, Sara breathed a sigh of relief. While Grissom hadn't been openly affectionate, they were in the lab, so she hadn't really expected him to be. What was important to her was that he hadn't been distant or cold, either. Maybe everything was going to be all right after all. Of course, she reminded herself, the rumors hadn't started yet. Ecklie wouldn't be in until morning.

"What do you have for me?" Grissom asked as he joined Sara in the layout room. Photographs of the various aspects of the case were carefully arranged on the table.

She flashed him a satisfied grin. "The bullet Greg and I found at the scene was definitely fired from Benny Oliver's gun. And here's the kicker—the DNA on it belonged to Greg Ross."

"Very good." The proud twinkle in his eye was unmistakable. His grin disappeared as his brow furrowed. "We still have a big problem, though."

"What's that?"

"What do we charge Miriam Oliver with?"

"What do you mean?"

Grissom knew from experience that she would not be happy with what he was going to tell her. He chose his words carefully and attempted to keep his tone gentle. "She shot him accidentally. She never even saw him. And we can't say for sure that the bullet is what killed him."

"It would have. If it didn't, it's only because he hit the pavement a fraction of a second before the bullet could stop his heart."

"The defense would argue that fall was the cause of death. He committed suicide. And we can't prove otherwise."

Sara lowered her head and closed her eyes to clear her mind. She couldn't argue with Grissom's logic. He was right. She looked at him again. "So we can't charge her."

"Well, we can get her on some weapons violations. She fired a handgun in an apartment building. Maybe we can get her on some kind of assault charge. But not murder."

"Believe it or not," she began, "I kind of feel for her. Her husband beats the hell out of her, so she tries to defend herself, and bam! Kills a stranger without meaning to." She shook her head sadly.

"She's trapped in a situation she doesn't know how to get out of," Grissom agreed. "Maybe he's isolated her from her friends and family to the point where she feels she has nowhere to go if she leaves."

"And he's going to walk."

Part III

"Morning, Gil," Conrad Ecklie sneered as he stuck his head in the door of Grissom's office.

"What do you want, Conrad?" Grissom was gathering his things on his way out the door for the day.

"I'm hurt." Ecklie placed his hand over his heart in mock agony. "Why would you automatically assume that I want something?"

"Spreading any rumors yet?"

"Technically, if I tell anyone what I know it won't be spreading rumors, it'll be the truth. Sidle gets what she wants the old-fashioned way. Tell me, Gil, is she interested in a transfer to days?"

Grissom failed to keep his temper in check. "Sara Sidle is the best CSI in this lab. She's earned everyone's respect, including yours. Don't you dare come in here and question her integrity!"

"Temper, temper. I'll keep my mouth shut for now, but only because I haven't decided the best way to use my knowledge to my advantage. Watch your back, Gil. I know where the proverbial bodies are buried."

As Ecklie left, Grissom muttered under his breath. "That's good, because you sure can't find any actual ones."

Part IV

Grissom's nerves were frayed as he readied his home for his date with Sara. He hadn't slept well, hearing Ecklie's words resonating through his head. One of his biggest fears about beginning a relationship with Sara was that she could be perceived in an ill light as a result. He didn't want her career or her reputation to suffer.

He hoped that she wouldn't view the fact that he'd asked her to come to his townhouse for dinner rather than going to a restaurant as a retreat. He had planned to do it this way anyway.

When Sara arrived, he ushered into the living room and they sat on the sofa.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"Um, sure. Tea's fine, if you have it."

Grissom rose to get the beverage.

Sara decided to bite the bullet. If Grissom was going to back down, she needed to know now. "So how did it go with Ecklie this morning?"

"Ecklie's Ecklie," Grissom responded, returning with two glasses of iced tea. "He said he's still deciding the best course of action."

"Thanks." She took a glass from him. "So he's not telling anyone yet?"

Grissom shook his head. "I have concerns."

Sara smiled nervously. _Oh crap, here it comes_. "I thought you might."

"It pains me to hear anyone question your integrity. Ecklie's already implying that you're performing, um…_favors_ to meet profession goals."

"It's sweet that it bothers you."

"It doesn't bother _you_?"

"Of course it does. But I'll stand my record up next to anyone else's any day. There's always going to be someone who'll think that, but there will also be those who look at it objectively and see that I've earned my way." She watched him nervously to see if her words had an impact. "I have a concern, too."

"What's that?"

"I was afraid that after what happened with Ecklie, you'd decide you were right all along and drop me like a hot potato. Then you'd figure out some way to do damage control with Ecklie so no one else finds out."

Grissom placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "Never. I've made my decision, Sara. I can't turn back now. I'm in this for the long haul."

TBC


	6. Dance, Skeleton, Dance!

Part I

The next few weeks passed in relative bliss for Grissom and Sara. Since they had connected on that first date, they were comfortable and easy around each other. They were still each occasionally struck by their respective fears, but the panic was manageable and fleeting.

As most of their off-duty time was spent together, Grissom tended to assign them to different cases at work. Business at the lab was thus far progressing smoothly despite initial concerns, and none of the other CSIs seemed any the wiser. Ecklie continued to hold his tongue, apparently waiting for the most opportune time to spill the beans.

Grissom sat at his dining table, pondering the Ecklie problem. It was rare for him to be alone at home, but Sara's case had kept her late this morning and he had gone home to sleep. He looked forward to seeing her when he got to lab. Ecklie had the potential to make his life very difficult. One of Grissom's biggest reservations about entering into a relationship with Sara was the possibility for complications in the workplace. He had worked very hard for his career, and up until a certain leggy brunette came along, it was all he had. He was terrified by the prospect of anything interfering with it.

If word got around about this relationship, he and Sara could both see their careers suffer. He had other things that he could fall back on, but Sara's options were more limited. He wondered briefly if she would consider returning to college to complete her graduate work The University had a good physics program. It would be difficult for her to do if she had to work while attending, but maybe she wouldn't have to work if she were…_no, Gil, you're jumping ahead. Maybe later, though_. At the moment, Ecklie needed to be dealt with once and for all.

He finished his sandwich and gathered his things to go into the lab. Driving in to work, he realized that if Ecklie had no ammunition, he couldn't hurt them. Perhaps if he beat his nemesis to the punch, he could defuse the situation. Yes, a preemptive strike, an aggressive move—that's what he needed. If he had to make a sacrifice to be with Sara, he would do it.

Part II

Sara and Warrick were in DNA, discussing their case with Greg. Grissom paused in the doorway to catch up on the evidence, then spoke, "Good work, Greg." He turned to Warrick and Sara. "Now link the custodian to the dead student and you've got a case. Sara, can I see you in my office when you have a moment?"

Sara kept her expression even, not willing to let Warrick notice how charged she became when she heard their boss's voice. "Sure."

Ten minutes later, she knocked softly on the open door to get Grissom's attention. "Hey."

He looked up at her and smiled, motioning for her to enter. "Hey yourself. Shut the door."

"Shut the door? Ooh, what's up?" She grinned slyly as she sat on the corner of his desk. The urge to kiss him was strong, but they had agreed that it was dangerous and inappropriate while at the lab.

He leaned back in his chair. "I want to tell Cavallo."

"Tell him what?"

"Everything. About us."

"Are you sure you're ready for that?"

He let out a breath. "Ready as I'll ever be. I think it's really our only option. Ecklie won't keep quiet forever. And I don't want to keep you a secret forever. You deserve more."

Sara smiled broadly and quickly ran her hand along his bearded cheek. "I should be there. It concerns me, too."

Grissom merely nodded.

Part III

"Dr. Grissom, CSI Sidle. What can I do for you?" Robert Cavallo asked as the duo entered his office. "Take a seat."

"Thank you," Sara said politely. She and Grissom sat in the hard plastic chairs across the desk from the lab's director.

"Robert," Grissom began, "I need to, _we_ need to speak with you about something."

"Go ahead."

"Sara and I are seeing each other."

"As in dating?"

Grissom shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Sara put her hand on his arm in reassurance. "That's right."

"So you're romantically involved with someone who's under your supervision?" Cavallo shook his head. "What am I supposed to do about this, Grissom?"

"You're supposed to do nothing," Sara asserted. "We haven't allowed it to interfere with our work, and there's nothing in the handbook specifically prohibiting this kind of thing."

"Be that as it may, it's still not a good idea," the director responded.

"I'll step down," Grissom said quietly but firmly.

Sara and Cavallo both turned to him, stunned.

He continued. "If it's a problem for us to work together, I'll step down and take a position at the University."

"You can't do that," Sara insisted. "Forensics is your life."

"Not anymore. And I'd still be involved in forensics, just in a different capacity."

"No, no. I'll quit." Sara said.

"Hold it!" Cavallo interjected. "No one's quitting. As I said, it's a bad idea to date someone you work with, especially in a position of authority, but it's not against the rules. As long as you two keep it out of the lab, I'll look the other way. You will have to send me all of her evaluations and disciplinary reports, though."

Grissom relaxed a bit. "Done."

As they left the office, Sara sighed. "That went better than expected."

"Yes, it did."

"I'm glad you decided to tell him."

He cocked his slightly. "'If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance'. George Bernard Shaw. In this case, I don't want to get rid of it. See you in fifteen minutes at my place?"

Sara's smile was brighter than the sun, just as in the picture he kept in his dresser. It was good to see it back. She nodded her head. "You bet."

End.


End file.
